


Tequila is for daring

by ElenyasBlood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenyasBlood/pseuds/ElenyasBlood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila is for daring

Beer. Sam always liked beer because it's for lazy evenings in front of the TV. It's for wrestling on the floor and tickle wars. It's for sloppy make-out sessions in the backseat of the Impala and for sleeping in one bed after having a lungful of weed outside a sleazy motel room. Beer is for messy kisses and uncoordinated fumbling in the dark, it's for shaky breaths and for hasty rutting and grinding until you find some release in the arms of your big brother.

Wine, on the other hand, is for taking your sweet time. It's for hot nights somewhere outside the city, for spending hours slowly exploring each other's trembling bodies. It's for sweet, languid kisses, hushed words and soft smiles between lazy thrusts. Wine is for the feeling of smooth skin sliding against each other, for sensual touches and tender embraces. It's for the whispered _I love you_ 's and _I got you_ 's in those moments when the universe crashes down on you. It's for feeling infinitely beautiful in the arms of your lover. It's for tracing honeyed freckles with your tongue and falling in love all over again under a starry night sky in the middle of nowhere.

Tequila? Tequila is for daring. It's for body shots and slurring filth into each other's ears. It's for licking deep into your brother's mouth and it's for a hard fuck. Tequila is for licking salt from each other's dicks and squeeze lemon juice all over puckered nipples. It's for letting yourself get fucked against a wall, your body shivering under every hard push. It's for feeling full with come, for having your mouth thoroughly ruined by your brother's dick. It's for trying new things, for finally being brave enough to bring up all the dirty thoughts that had lingered underneath the surface. It's for all those muttered _You're mine_ 's and the panted _Forever yours_ 's and it's for feeling sore and hung over out in the morning.

And Whiskey? Whiskey is for mourning. It's numbing. It's no tender caresses or mumbled vows in the dark. It's neither love nor tearing each other's clothes off in heat. It's not the feeling of skin against skin, not spit-slick kisses or slow, lazy sex.

Whiskey is desperation. It's ' _I'm proud of us_ ' spoken in a voice wet with blood. It's loneliness. It's the feeling of wanting to claw your skin off, it's being a broken shell in the dark, it's being robbed of everything that mattered in your world. Whiskey is for filling the void inside your chest with burning liquid, it's biting the insides of your cheeks until you taste blood. It's hitting the wall with bruised knuckles, it's screaming in the dark and pleading for another chance. Whiskey is crying until your throat is sore. It's not warm and comforting but dead cold. It's loss and grief and it tastes like blood. It's consuming, all-engulfing, disgusting—and it's everything you need after carrying your brother to his deathbed.

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say.


End file.
